


Heart Shaped

by reona32



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day, a touch of romance, mention of Korea, the boys being cute, wow am I late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reona32/pseuds/reona32
Summary: After a long, exhausting mission that sends the partners to opposite ends of the globe, they end up in a Paris hotel during a certain holiday to rest, recover, and reconnect with each other.





	

Illya opened the door to the bedroom as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake the room’s occupant. Although he was sure a herd of elephants could parade through their Paris hotel room and his partner would sleep right through the noise, as exhausted as he was. The last month had been busy, sending the pair to opposite sides of the globe. They had been like two ships passing for much too long. The night before was the first time they had been in the same city, let alone the same room, in over three weeks. The mission had been long, complicated, and dangerous. When he had gotten word that Napoleon had run their foe to ground in Paris, he’d rushed to the city but only managed to be there for the wrap-up.

Illya crept over to the bed, its mound of pillows and rumpled sheets not hiding the dark haired man that slumbered there. Sunlight glowed through the windows and a low fire in the fireplace sent out waves of heat. Napoleon was sleeping on his stomach, his face hidden from the encroaching sunlight. The sheets had bunched down around his waist. Illya smiled as he admired the row of tiny love bites that marched down Napoleon’s spine (Illya’s doing) and frowned at the cuts on his right shoulder (not Illya’s doing). His hand hovered over Napoleon’s back, caressing the air. “Napoleon,” Illya murmured, “wake up, dushka.” The other man scrunched down deeper into the pillows with a negative sounding grunt. Illya smiled fondly. “Yes, wake up. Breakfast was just delivered. There’s coffee.”

Napoleon turned his head so he could scowl up at the blond. “There better be,” he muttered. He pushed himself up with a yawn. The sheet slid down, revealing light finger shaped contusions on his hips (Illya's doing) and a dark bruise on top of his left thigh (not Illya's doing). “Good morning.” Napoleon leaned forward for a kiss and Illya gladly obliged him. Napoleon had almost succeeded in pressing Illya back onto the bed when the rumble of an empty stomach interrupted them.

“For once, that wasn't me,” chuckled Illya as Napoleon sat up sheepishly. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Ummm. Dinner, I think.”

“Dinner how many days ago?”

“Now that I couldn't tell you. I've spent the last few days moving. I'm pretty sure I managed a pastry sometime yesterday, before Mr. DuPont was subdued.”

Illya shook his head wryly. “Go wash up and then we'll eat before it gets cold.”

Napoleon pouted. “If you insist.” He got up, running the backs of his fingers down Illya's arm before making his way across the bedroom and disappearing into the bathroom, completely unconcerned with his nudity.

Illya watched appreciatively with a smirk before heading back into the sitting room of the hotel suite. In there the fireplace burned with a merry flame. The radio in the corner was playing softly. A rolling cart was sitting just inside the door and Illya pushed it closer to the dining table by the windows before lifting the large silver domes from the dishes. He paused as he saw the food, confused. He'd never seen pancakes or omelets like that. Illya transferred the plates to the table, setting out the silverware.

Napoleon joined him shortly after. He had combed his hair but left it without cream, so it curled softly. A shave had taken care of his dark whiskers. He'd put on a robe loosely, the belt barely holding it closed. The brunet went straight for the coffee and poured himself a cup. Napoleon took a deep gulp of the hot liquid while sinking down into a chair, sighing with pleasure.

“Napoleon, I have a question,” said Illya. Napoleon hummed at him, still enjoying his coffee. “Is it normal to carve food into the shape of hearts like this?”

Napoleon blinked at him in confusion and looked down at the dishes set out on the table. All of the food was shaped into hearts, even the fresh fruit and pats of butter. The napkins were red with white hearts stitched onto them. The plates and cups had a gold heart and filigree pattern. A red rose in a bud vase had been included with their breakfast. “Oh, blast. Is it February 14th already?” exclaimed Napoleon.

Illya cocked his head. “The 12th, actually, but what does it matter?”

“Valentine's Day, Illya! I guess a day or two before is close enough for their special breakfasts. They must give them to everyone in the hotel. Oh, I am going to get an earful from the ladies at Headquarters. I haven't had any time to arrange for flowers and chocolates to be sent around.”

“Saint Valentine?” Illya said questioningly.

“No, well, yes, the day is named after him but it's mostly a commercial holiday.”

“Are not all American holidays such?”

Napoleon snorted. “Don't be cheeky. On Valentine's Day people profess their love for each other and exchange gifts, go out for dinners, and the such.”

“I have heard of it while in London. We have had other things to worry about than sweets in large heart shaped boxes these past few weeks.”

“Understatement, partner mine.” Napoleon chuckled and grinned. “Here we are in the most romantic city in the world during the most romantic holiday of the year in the best hotel in the city. However should we occupy ourselves?” Napoleon leered at the blond, suggestively licking his bottom lip. The effect was ruined when he suddenly yawned.

Illya snorted. “You are eating and then going back to bed, lyubov moy. The last month has not been kind to either of us but I know you have had no real sleep in the past three days.”

“I caught some cat naps,” protested Napoleon. Illya merely looked at him, expressionless, until the brunet gave in. “Oh fine. Spoilsport.” He set his coffee cup aside and tucked into the food. Even the sausage patties were heart shaped, they discovered. Their feast came with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket but Illya forbid Napoleon from opening it. Instead they drank orange juice and coffee with their heart shaped omelets and pancakes. Despite his bravo, Napoleon kept yawning through the meal and looked more than ready to return to bed at the end of it.

“To bed with you,” Illya ordered when the food was done with.

Napoleon laid his napkin on the table with a sigh. “I never thought I'd hear you say those words to me and not expect to be intimate,” he said mournfully. He stood and headed for the bedroom, Illya following.

“If I did not think you would yawn through sex, you would not now,” Illya said. Napoleon snorted, tossing his robe onto a convenient chair and collapsing onto the bed. Illya went to the fire and stirred the flames, adding wood to combat the late winter chill. He smiled fondly as Napoleon tossed around pillows and pulled at the blankets until he was settled to his satisfaction. “Rest well, dushka,” whispered Illya, heading for the door.

“Excuse me? Where are you going?” demanded Napoleon indignantly.

Illya cocked an eyebrow. “Back into the sitting room, so you may sleep in peace.”

“I don't think so. Get a book or some paperwork or whatever to occupy yourself and then come here. We haven't had time together in almost a month. If you are not within a five foot radius of me for at least the next few days, I will be very cross.”

Illya chuckled and bowed his head in obedience. “As you wish.” He gathered a book and a cup of tea from the sitting room, turned off the radio, and returned to the bedroom as ordered. The blond set his things on the nightstand and piled pillows against the headboard so he could lean back comfortably before sitting on the bed.

Napoleon immediately rolled close and settled along Illya's side with a sigh. “Much better,” he mumbled into Illya's hip.

Illya reached down and stroked Napoleon's dark hair. “Go to sleep, Napoleon. I am here,” he soothed. It was not long before Napoleon drifted to sleep. For several minutes Illya merely sat petting the other man before picking up his book and beginning to read.

Napoleon had a habit of twitching in his sleep when dreaming vividly. It had concerned Illya at first but after a few months, he'd learned to ignore it. So, when Napoleon’s fingers began to jerk against his thigh, Illya was indifferent. The quickened breathing and tiny distressed whine a few minutes later caught his attention. Napoleon didn't tend to make noise in his sleep unless it was a less than pleasant dream. Illya looked down to see his partner's face twisted in fright and knew Napoleon was caught in a nightmare.

“Napoleon,” Illya called quietly, touching his cheek. “Wake up, Napoleon. It's just a nightmare. Wake up.” He shook his shoulder a little. “Wake up.” Napoleon came awake coughing and sputtering, gasping for air he could not seem to find. Illya caught his shoulders and helped him sit up. “Calm down, dushka. You are safe. Ya zdes'. Ty v bezopasnosti.” He soothed his partner, stroking his back until the brunet calmed and got his breathing under control. Illya brushed his hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Water?” he muttered.

“Thrush goon tossed me into the Seine a few days ago,” grumbled Napoleon, leaning into Illya's embrace. The brunet was still trembling slightly. As much as Napoleon loved to go sailing, he hated to swim. Putting his face underwater was always a cause for anxiety for him for a reason Illya had yet to learn. Napoleon could swim just fine, if he had time to prepare himself. Being suddenly flung into a river by an adversary usually resulted in some distress and, Illya had learned, nightmares after the adventure was done.

Illya pulled the blankets up around them and handed Napoleon his cup of tea. Napoleon sipped the warm liquid slowly, calming down. “Do you want to talk about it?” Illya asked when Napoleon’s breathing was slow and he slumped heavily against Illya’s shoulder.

Napoleon hummed, showing he had heard, but Illya had no idea if he would reply or simple ignore the question and drift back to sleep. He was faintly surprised when Napoleon began to mutter, “I was 8 when I went out on the frozen pond at my grandparents place, even though I was told not to. I fell through a weak spot.” Illya nodded, stroking the nap of Napoleon’s neck; a fairly common story for someone that had grown up in wintery Russia. “My grandpère hauled me out. Spent a week in the hospital with pneumonia.” Illy took the empty tea cup and set it aside. “I was 11 when some of my cousins and I were swimming in that same pond during the summer. Got my foot entangled in some underwater plants. Took a couple of minutes for them to realize I wasn’t messing around and come help.”

“No wonder you are afraid of drowning,” sympathized Illya.

Napoleon sighed. “When I was 15…”

“More?”

“… I was swimming in the local community pool with friends. We were roughhousing and one of them got a little too rough, held me down under the water for longer than he should. Couldn’t hold my breath any longer. The lifeguard had to rescue me and give me mouth to mouth.”

“I’m sorry,” Illya muttered.

Napoleon shivered. “Which was all fine, really. Accidents but it was fine. Until Korea.” Illya tensed. “We were ambushed and one of them got ahold of me; held me down in a fucking puddle.” Illya blinked; Napoleon cursed so rarely. “I was drowning in a couple inches of water.” He turned his face into Illya’s neck. “That’s when I became afraid of drowning.”

Napoleon was trembling again and Illya curled around him, pulling the blankets close around them. He muttered soothingly into their little cocoon, half nonsense, half lullaby, until Napoleon had calmed and grown sleepy once more. “Do you want some more tea?” Illya asked quietly. Napoleon shook his head slightly, inching down to lay more comfortably on the bed. Illya could feel the slow brush of his eyelashes against his shoulder as he blinked drowsily. “Are you going to go to sleep again?” Illya asked with amusement. Napoleon nodded, a faint quirk to his lips. “Then sleep, duskha. I will guard your slumber.” He kissed his cheek.

Illya grabbed his book and spent the next few hours either reading or dozing. Napoleon’s sleep was easy until he stirred about mid-day. The heavy lump against Illya’ side sat up in an eruption of blankets. Napoleon yawned and looked around the bedroom while Illya fought not to laugh at his partner’s mussed hair. The brunet was so rarely so unkempt; this was a sight for Illya alone. “What time is it?” mumbled Napoleon, rubbing at his eyes.

Illya glanced at the nightstand. “A little after 1pm.” He waited but Napoleon just sat there, looking a little unfocused. “Are you feeling ok?”

“Yeah. Got a bit of a headache, though.”

“Do you want some aspirin?” Napoleon nodded and Illya slid off the bed. He fetched the pain reliever from their suitcases and poured another cup of tea. He brought both back to the bedroom and handed them to Napoleon, taking a moment to check his forehead and cheek for fever. “No fever, luckily,” he muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m always lucky,” protested Napoleon, sipping the slightly too cool tea. When he was finished, Illya took the cup away and Napoleon collapsed back onto the pillows, throwing an arm over his eyes. Illya went to the bathroom and returned with a warm cloth. He pushed Napoleon’s arm away and laid the cloth over his eyes. Napoleon sighed. “Thank you,” the brunet muttered.

“You’re welcome.” Illya replied quietly. He didn’t know if Napoleon had dozed off again but he lay quietly and Illya picked his book back up. At this rate, he might actually finish it. Sometime later, Napoleon took the cloth off his face and tossed it away before rolling over. He pushed the white t-shirt Illya was wearing up and then laid his head down on his bare chest, ear to his heart. Illya smiled crookedly, reaching up to run his fingers through Napoleon’s dark hair. “Feeling better?” Napoleon hummed and then shivered as Illya stroked the shell of his ear. “Hungry? Do you want to get lunch?”

“Do you want to go out?”

“Not particularly.”

“If we order room service, do you think everything will be heart shaped again?”

“Let’s find out,” said Illya, reaching for the phone.

Napoleon laughed when lunch arrived. A three tiered tower was crowded with little sandwiches, all cut into heart shapes. There were two bowls of thick lobster bisque with golden spoons and crusty bread. White cream hearts had been poured on the surface. Another tower held tiny heart shaped cakes and a selection of bonbons and macarons, all in red and pink. “They are dedicated to a theme, I’ll give them that,” praised Napoleon as he sat at the table.

Illya popped the cork on the champagne bottle from breakfast and Napoleon grinned. They sipped the bubbly beverage while they ate and then divvied up the sweets equally between them. “Here, these have that raspberry cream you like so much,” said Illya, pushing a cluster of chocolates in Napoleon’s direction.

“Aww. You do love me,” cooed Napoleon teasingly. Illya ended up with anything that had coconut, as Napoleon wasn’t fond of it. They took their dessert back to the bed. They pilled the pillows up and leaned against them. “Oh, you've got a little... right there,” said Napoleon. He used a finger to wipe the smudge of chocolate from the corner of Illya's mouth. He then licked the fingertip clean, his brown eyes sparkling as Illya watched. Napoleon leaned in, seeking more chocolate on those lips.

Illya chuckled into the kiss. “I wondered when we would get to the main event.” The plates of chocolates were set aside on the nightstand.

Napoleon kissed down Illya's chin and nibbled along his jaw. “Like you said, it's been a long month.” Napoleon pressed the blond back into the pillows, reaching under Illya's t-shirt to run his palms up the other man's ribs. Illya curled his fingers into Napoleon's hair. “You are wearing too much clothing,” Napoleon complained, tugging at the waist of Illya's trousers. Napoleon hadn't even bothered to put the robe on again to eat lunch. Illya yanked his t-shirt off and wiggled out of his pants with Napoleon's help. “Much better,” muttered Napoleon. He latched his mouth onto Illya's neck and focused on sucking a mark onto the fair skin.

Illya grunted at the sting. Blunt fingernails scratched up the brunet's back in retaliation. Illya spread his legs and lay back. Napoleon took the invitation and moved to lie between the blond's thighs. The pair sighed as their groins came into contact. They couldn't control the need to roll their hips and were soon moving against each other, their cocks quickly filling to full hardness between them. Arousal thrummed through their bodies. Illya broke their kiss to moan, skin flushed.

Napoleon's fingers wandered across Illya's chest as he kissed and suck at the blond's neck and shoulders. He rubbed at Illya's nipples, pinching as he knew his partner liked. Illya wrapped his legs around Napoleon's hips and ground up hard. Napoleon groaned as their cocks rubbed together. Pleasure settled warm and heavy in their bellies, a fire slowly rising into an inferno. “More. Faster,” ordered Illya, digging his heels into the backs of Napoleon's thighs.

Napoleon obeyed, getting his knees under himself and focusing on the thrust of his hips. It wasn't long before Illya arched, his orgasm shuddering through his body. A few more frantic thrusts had Napoleon following his partner, the pair slicking their stomachs with the evidence of their completion.

Illya prodded Napoleon with a toe a couple minutes later and the brunet obligingly shifted off to the side, laying his head down on Illya's shoulder. “Happy Valentine's Day, love,” Napoleon muttered, kissing the nearest bit of skin he could reach. “I'll get you some flowers and chocolate once we're back in New York.”

Illya's lip curled. “No flowers,” he grumbled.

“But you want the chocolate?”

“Of course I want the chocolate. Don't be ridiculous.” Napoleon smiled and turned his head to press a kiss to Illya's shoulder. Then he kissed his upper arm and down to the inside of his elbow. He hopped kisses down the soft skin of his arm and stopped to nip and kiss the inside of his wrist. “You are insatiable,” Illya said, his breathing quickening.

“You love it,” Napoleon said, before kissing across his palm. Illya's breathing hitched as Napoleon drew his forefinger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit. He sealed his lips around Illya's finger and slowly pulled his mouth off, sucking the entire length. “Yummy,” praised Napoleon when the finger slid out of his mouth. “I know what else would also be yummy.”

Napoleon rolled between Illya's legs, pushing his thighs wide to make room. Illya groaned loudly as Napoleon ran the flat of his tongue up the underside of his cock. “You have got to be kidding me,” Illya muttered as Napoleon slid his hands over Illya's hips. Napoleon hummed from where he was nibbling up the side of Illya's cock and then pressed his hips down to the bed as the blond jerked at the sensation.

Napoleon licked and kissed until Illya was once again hard. The brunet rolled his hips as he worked, stimulating himself against the mattress. The long length slipped into Napoleon’s mouth and Illya twisted his fingers in the bedsheets, teeth gritted against the desire for release. Napoleon looked up, appreciating the line of torso and the arch of the back as Illya tensed. He pulled back and Illya let out a noise of protest. Napoleon wrapped his fingers tightly around the base of Illya’s cock until he was sure the blond wouldn’t come just yet. He swiped his tongue over the head of Illya's cock while he grumbled and looked around.

The tube of lube was sitting on the nightstand and Napoleon crawled over to grab it before returning to his previous position. He wrapped his lips around the head of Illya’s cock and toyed with the slit with his tongue while he slicked his fingers and carefully slipped one inside Illya’s body. Illya grunted, hips moving restlessly between the two sources of pleasure. Napoleon twisted his finger, spreading the lube inside the snug channel. Illya huffed as he eased a second finger in. “You’re going to kill me,” he complained through clinched teeth.

Napoleon bobbled his head while he scissored his fingers, Illya’s cock slipping in and out of his warm mouth. The tight ring of muscle slowly relaxed from Napoleon’s effort. Illya panted and moaned under the onslaught. Napoleon added a third finger and twisted them, seeking a particular little bud to rub. Illya choked out a cry, hips jerking. Napoleon grunted as Illya’s cock plunged down his throat, struggling not to gag. Illya shook as he came. Napoleon kept his fingers moving, twisting and thrusting them in and out of the blond’s body. The other man’s cock pulsing on Napoleon’s tongue and he swallowed down the semen that spurted into his mouth.

When Illya began to grow soft, Napoleon released him and pulled away, resting his head on the blond’s thigh. His own cock was heavy with arousal and he rubbed himself against the bed as he waited, unable to keep still. When Illya regained his breath he looked down and threaded his fingers through Napoleon’s dark hair. He tugged gently. “Alright, come on,” he murmured. Napoleon didn’t need further encouragement. He sat up and grabbed the lube. The brunet then slicked his cock and nudged his way between Illay’s thighs. The pair groaned as Napoleon entered Illya, pressing forward steadily until he was fully seated inside the blond.

“You feel so good,” Napoleon praised through gritted teeth. “So warm.”

Illya tilted his hips and smiled as Napoleon gasped. “Come on, dushka. Take your pleasure.” Napoleon drew his cock out and then slowly thrust back inside, a low sound of delight rumbling in his chest. Illya softly moaned. There was little chance of him becoming hard again but the unhurried glide of Napoleon’s cock over his prostate was pleasurable nonetheless. Napoleon set up a steady rocking motion. He wrapped his hands around Illya’s hips and looked down between them. It always amazed him to see his cock enter Illya, his flesh disappearing into that of his partner. He gave a powerful snap of his hips and the pair groaned.

Unable to control himself any longer, Napoleon leaned forward, resting his hands on either side of Illya, and began to thrust in earnest. Each roll of his hips plunged his hard cock into Illya’s ass. The slap of skin against skin was loud in the bedroom as Napoleon chased the edge, his orgasm like the crash of a tidal-wave. He moaned as if in pain, moving with short, sharp thrusts as he spilled inside the body of his partner.

When Napoleon finished, he sagged forward until he rested on Illya’s chest. The blond grunted as the other man’s cock slipped free from his body and straightened his legs. He threaded his fingers into Napoleon’s hair and shivered at the warm breath ghosting across his skin. It was a long moment before Napoleon shifted to the side, taking his weight off the smaller man. Illya turned his head for a kiss, the pair leisurely tasting each others lips and tongues. He idly stroked Napoleon’s arm as they nuzzled each other. Soon they were both blinking sleepily. “I think a nap is in order,” Illya muttered.

“We should bath first,” said Napoleon. Illya nodded in agreement but made no effort to move. The pair curled together on the messy bed. A blanket was snagged and pulled up. After a moment, Napoleon chuckled.

“Hmm? What?” asked Illya.

“If we order dinner in tonight, do you think it will be heart shaped too?”

Illya laughed softly. “Only one way to know.”

Dinner that evening was beef wellington, scalloped potatoes, and grilled asparagus. Dessert was crème brûlée; in white heart shaped dishes.


End file.
